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Strove to find a way to punch people in the face by using the Internet.

6/13/2005

EMBRACING THE MUNDANE
Typical "Blog" Crap
Have I ever mentioned how much I hate blogs? You go to read one, and it's basically terrible. You go to read another one, ditto. I won't even elaborate — you've read them. You know what I mean.

I also hate how we're all supposed to think they're so damn important. You got Grandma Dustpussy, publisher over at the Ye Olde Daily Antiquity Status-Quo Times-Herald, still smarting from being caught napping when USA Today fucking put yellow on the front page in 1983 or whatever, desperately scrambling to hop onto a trend that 14-year-old Indonesian goth kids without electricity ditched a year ago.

Then you have people with names like Xeni, who are possibly from the future, or Burning Man, or maybe space, and use the word "meme" and talk about blogs with the assurance that their relevance at this point can be assumed, despite the fact that if you said the word in front of your co-workers, your mom, the guy who works on your car or 99% of anybody they'd think you burped or were trying out a new bullfrog call. Look, I know Xeni is futuristic and hot — that doesn't mean we have to listen to her. She might be evil, you know.

Anyway, these people have at least one thing in common: they're all absolutely convinced that blogs Mean Something Important. Of course, they can't tell you what, exactly. But Something Important.

I kind of hate that.

Mostly, though, I think I just hate the word. "Blog." God, what an ugly fucking thing. Blog blog blog. Blog blog blog blog blog blog blog. Ugh, I'm hardly a word snob, but c'mon.

I'd like to take this opportunity to point out that I don't have a blog. I have a Web site. Shut up, I know what the URL looks like. Look, shut up! I SAID SHUT UP.

Oh, if you are my friend, I don't hate your blog... It is an exception. As far as you know. Carry on with all the good work. It's important and it means something blah blah blah.

Anyway, the point of all this is that I'm a little unhappy about something I'm fixin' to do, which is give in to some kinda blog sheep thingy and answer some stupid questions that are going around. I have to, you see. Sean Bonner tagged me. And he said it's mandatory.

Sigh. Fucking Bonner.

Alright, here goes:

Total size of music files on my computer: none. Zero. I still buy CDs. Shit, I still have about 200 vinyl LPs... Down from more than 4,500 at my collection's peak. But I hate how this first question is already assuming I'm some robot-loving tech nerd, listening to my beloved boops and bleeps and whatnot on tinny computer speakers that sound like ass on a stick. For your information, Sean Bonner, I'm, uh, listening to my beloved boops and beeps on tinny computer speakers by using my Nomad Zen Xtra MP3 player, which is full to burstin' with 39 gigs out of a possible 40.

Nomad Zen Xtra, isn't that the hot chick who writes for Boing Boing? Ah hah ha ha hah ha ha haaa!

The last CD I bought was: How about the last 100 CDs I bought? I buy a lot of CDs. Despite my innate kneejerk punk-rock snobbery toward all things popular, I bought that Arcade Fire thing everyone seems to love. What can I say, it sounded pretty good when I was doing shots of bourbon and chugging Michelob Ultra and dancing around the living room like a big tard with really cute indie-rock girls at 3:30 in the morning.

Friday night I was telling Jason Black from the on-hiatus Hot Water Music (new band: The Draft) (I tried to convince him that naming it "The Saucy Pirates" would move a few units, but he's lame and didn't go for it) that the Arcade Fire album was good, and was halfway through comparing the arrangements on it to some of the songs on The Smiths' The Queen is Dead before I remembered Jason, being lame, doesn't actually like The Smiths, of all preposterous opinions to have, and was fixin' to backtrack on the comparison when I was physically attacked by two girls. Kinda big ones. They thought it would be flirty and funny to jump on me and bite my shoulders, but when they did the chair I was in splintered out from under me with a loud crack... Fucking Jason ran off, too, and I had to fight the girls by myself. One of them got me in a full nelson, and all I could think was, "God, people are watching. Please let me break it." You have to be careful when fighting girls. You don't want to lose, but you don't want to win, you know? It's a delicate balance. An art, really.

Anyway, I broke the hold and threw a big hissy fit, screaming, "Get the fuck off me!" Everyone thought it was funny, seeing as I'm not usually on the receiving end of those sorts of hijinx. Fuck, I must be really annoying.

Song playing right now in iTunes: iTunes?! Cracker please. Notice how all these groovy avant-garde blogariffic types assume everyone buys into their weird Apple Computer cult? Yeah, sweet, dude. Your monitor looks like an egg. Guess what? I can right-click stuff.

Anyway, it's the David Bowie song "Saviour Machine," a great cut with a dramatic, swooping vocal melody that's off his overlooked "heavy metal" album The Man Who Sold the World, which has some shit on it that's just as burly as anything off the first four Black Sabbath albums, I shit you not. Despite the fact nobody back then was sure if he was a lady or not.

Hey, Xeni McBlogger! Bowie was hot and from the future, and look at him now! Respected artist... Millionaire... Married to a famous model... You like that? You wanna end up like David Bowie? Huh? Do you? If you know what's good for you, you'll get your evil robot masters to beam you to the present, and just settle the fuck down.

Five songs I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me:
The Smiths "There is a Light that Never Goes Out"
Mission of Burma "Academy Fight Song"
The Chameleons "Nostalgia"
Thin Lizzy "Little Girl in Bloom"
Echo & the Bunnymen "The Killing Moon"

Gee, that's great. Four parts mopey new-wave sissy and one part sentimental Irish drunk. If I had a sixth, it'd probably be Skynyrd's "Simple Man," just to throw the scent off and get a little "sentimental redneck drunk" in there... Oh, and I'm not interested in what any of you keyboard psychologists think that says about me. And I'm going to stop now. But if I had another one, it'd be Naked Raygun's "Vanilla Blue." OK, now I'm really going to stop.

Bonner put up thing where you can download his song choices. I ain't, though. Go to damn Best Buy and just get the CD like a normal person, would you? Sheesh.

Oh, and I'm tagging my brother Neil as well as Keith, Duke, Brian, Sweetney and Styro Kitty, all chosen more or less at random.

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